


I'm With You

by Crexendo



Series: Bleach Songfics [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Reality, F/M, M/M, Multi, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crexendo/pseuds/Crexendo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone. Abandoned by the one person he had left to rely on. Awaiting death while standing in the rain. Kurosaki Ichigo reflects on how his life reached this point as he waits for Soi Fong and her agents to show up to finally end him. He's fought for too long, lost too much, and now, there's nothing left. He has been left with no choice but to give up.</p><p>Yet there remains one person who could still save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quite depressing one-shot, I randomly wrote at like three in the morning. I rather like it, so here it it. It's a songfic, and the song used is "I'm With You" by Avril Lavigne. Enjoy.

_“I'm standing on a bridge. I'm waiting in the dark. I thought that you'd be here by now.”_

-

He'd known, deep inside, that Rukia wouldn’t go through with this. Despite all her assurances and promises, he’d known that she would never be able to just abandon everything she knew and loved, just for him. He’d felt their bond, once so full of openness and love, had been deteriorating over the months. But still . . . he’d clung to the faint hope that she actually might come tonight, and run away with him.

-

_“There's nothing but the rain. No footsteps on the ground. I'm listening but there's no sound.”_

-

There was no reason for him to go back home now. There was nothing there anyways. It was just an empty house. It had been for a long time. Rukia was the only reason he’d stayed there, so she’d know where to find him. His family was gone. Killed by Shinigami, because Ichigo had refused to let himself be bound to them. Rukia had been one of the few still on his side. But now, it was likely that she’d already told her older brother everything, everything about their secret relationship, and the Secret Remote Squad was already on their way to come eliminate him. She’d always been weak like that . . . not able to truly give up her ties to the corrupt and manipulative organization that was Soul Society. Ichigo had fought, bled, nearly died for them more times than he cared to count, and they repay him by slaughtering what remained of his family, imprisoning the friends that dared speak out, and cutting him off from the world. It was like . . . he was a ghost now. Dead in all but body. The rain, cold and hard, had numbed the tips of his fingers and had long since soaked through his clothes, though . . . at this point, he could hardly bring himself to care. 

-

_“Isn't anyone tryin to find me? Won't somebody come take me home?”_

-

No one knew where Urahara Kisuke was, he’d disappeared almost immediately after the Kurosaki family had been killed. The Vizards, while willing to help him, didn’t necessarily want him, because with him came the ever present threat of the entirety of Soul Society coming after them, and ruining the fragile peace they’d worked to build. While they were willing to fight for him, they weren’t willing to die for him, and he didn’t hold that against them. It was understandable, after all, they owed him nothing. If anything, he owed them, and he could repay them by not bringing the whole of the Seireitei down on their heads. His friends had either been killed or imprisoned by the overzealous Shinigami, and anyone else who might have been able to help him had been effectively silenced.

-

_“It's a damn cold night. Trying to figure out this life.”_

-

A chill ran through him. It really was cold out here, in the middle of the woods behind Karakura Town, amid the rain and mid-November temperatures. But, he figured if he was lucky, he would freeze to death before Soi Fong and her cronies got there, or otherwise be so numb he wouldn’t be able to feel it when they killed him. Where had everything gone wrong, he wondered. Was it when he’d let Rukia give him her Shinigami powers? No. Was it when Aizen had stolen the Hogyoku and betrayed Soul Society? Maybe. Was it when he’d refused to fight their war for them, because as far as he was concerned, they were just a bunch of arbitrary self-proclaimed executioners? Probably. But what did any of that matter anymore?

-

_“Won't you take me by the hand? Take me somewhere new.”_

-

He often thought of what might of happened, had he taken up Aizen’s offer to come to Hueco Mundo with him, and serve as his Cero Espada. Maybe he could have protected his friends and family. Maybe he could have stopped the war entirely. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to watch as those who had once been his allies either disappeared one by one or turned against him. But that was all subjective and unimportant, because he had rejected that offer firmly and without hesitation. However, now . . . ? Anything was better than standing here, waiting to die, even if it was bowing down at Aizen’s feet and licking his shoes like a lost puppy. It was a chance to get back at the Central 46 who had decided that he was a bigger threat than Aizen, a chance to get back at those who had turned their backs on him, probably when he had needed them most. Still . . . the look in Aizen’s eyes that night had been something he hadn’t wanted to think of until now. Dark, fierce, loving. Possessive. And unperturbed when he had violently rejected the hand offered to him. Would those eyes still look at him the same way if they were to gaze upon him now? He didn’t know . . . but he wanted to.

-

_“I don't know who you are. But I . . . I'm with you. I'm with you.”_

-

The dark-haired lord had been inordinately interested in him over the months since he’d betrayed the Shinigami, even going so far as to visit him at his home in a gigai when his father was making house calls and his sisters were out running errands. Or at the corner café he passed on his way home from school. Or when he wandered out in the late evening hours to train, just wanting to escape the monotony of his everyday life. He was always calm, always collected, and never brought up Ichigo joining his cause again, just made polite conversation and left without so much as a goodbye, but with the silent promise that he’d be back. It’d been months since he’d last seen the Lord of Las Noches, he’d stopped coming just before everything went terribly, horribly wrong. He longed for the quiet companionship he’d offered, with no strings attached. It was true that he knew nothing about the man himself, knew nothing about his ulterior motives, what he really wanted, but now, he didn’t think any of that mattered. 

-

_“I'm looking for a place. I'm searching for a face. Is anybody here I know?”_

-

Ishida; taken by the insane captain of the 12th Division. Chad; killed by Soi Fong and the Secret Remote Squad on his way home from work one day out of the blue. Inoue; taken by the small female captain the same night to forcibly serve the Seireitei with her powers, under strict guard and observation. Tatsuki; killed when she tried to prevent them from taking Inoue. Ichigo prayed that Ishida was dead, for his own sake, his wasn’t a fate he would have ever wished upon anyone. Everyone else had just slowly vanished, until there was no one left. He saw them in his memories and dreams at times, and always, they turned out to be just that, a fading memory or a vivid dream. There really was no one left. No familiar faces to greet and share a laugh or a smile with. He knew, he’d searched long enough to know that they were all gone.

-

_“'Cause nothing's going right. And everything's a mess. And no one likes to be alone.”_

-

In Ichigo’s eyes, the world was all out of joint. Nothing made sense anymore. Why was he standing here in the rain, again? Oh, that’s right, because he’d been waiting for Rukia, but she wasn’t coming. Why had he believed in her in the first place, even knowing what she was like? Because he’d been desperate to find at least one person who wouldn’t turn on him, or randomly disappear one day. He’d been maddeningly desperate for someone he could trust, someone he could talk with, someone he knew didn’t want to kill him. It was the solitude he feared, more than anything else, it was being utterly and completely alone. But now that he was . . . he had no problem with dying.

-

_“Isn't anyone trying to find me? Won't somebody come take me home?”_

-

“Kurosaki Ichigo?” 

The voice would have startled him at any other time, but at this moment, he was too numb, inside and out, to feel much of anything. He turned slightly. There was someone standing in the shadows, but he couldn’t make out who it was, but the voice itself was unmistakable. “Aizen . . . .” he whispered. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Kurosaki-kun.” Was the soft answer, lacing with something that sounded like relief.

-

_“It's a damn cold night. Trying to figure out this life.”_

-

“Why?” was all Ichigo felt willing to say. 

“Because you disappeared. I . . . was worried about you.” 

Worried? The word sounded strange to him. Worried about him? The very idea was strange. Rukia never seemed to worry about him, only worry that they would be caught. Worried about what might happen if her esteemed older brother found out. He let the bitter laugh welling up in the back of his throat escape. “Worried . . . ? About me?” he scoffed grimly, “That’s a riot.” 

“Is it now? I fail to see how this is amusing, Kurosaki-kun. I . . . am sorry I couldn’t locate you sooner.” Aizen said slowly as he came into view, his form dimly illuminated by whatever natural light there was amid the rain. Gone was that smug arrogance, that aloof amusement that had perpetually melded itself into his expression.

Where it had gone, Ichigo could only guess. He seemed so different now . . . but regardless . . . .

-

_“Won't you take me by the hand? Take me somewhere new.”_

-

He should have gone with Aizen when he’d offered the first time. He’d realized that too late. Far, far too late. If he had, then maybe . . . he could have prevented all of this.

-

_“I don't know who you are. But I . . . I'm with you. I'm with you.”_

-

But who was to say it would have made a difference? Maybe his family and friend still would have suffered and died because of him. Maybe they would have died by his own hand instead. He didn’t know, and he would never know. Looking down at the water pooling in a depression in the ground near his feet, he gazed at his rippling reflection. He didn’t even know if he recognized himself anymore. He didn’t recognize the haunted, bone-tired, pale, drawn face looking back at him. Or maybe that it was that he didn’t recognize himself compared to how he used to be. He looked more like Hichigo now . . . . Maybe it was his old self he didn’t recognize anymore. But here he was, with Aizen, and Aizen seemed to recognize him, so maybe . . . he was still in there somewhere.

-

_“Oh why is everything so confusing? Maybe I'm just out of my mind . . . .”_

-

“Sorry, huh? Why in the world would you be sorry?” he asked harshly, trying to put anger he didn’t really feel into his voice. 

Aizen looked at him with an odd expression, one of conflict, like he was trying to decide if he should be offended or not. “Because . . . I care about you.”

The statement almost prompted him to laugh again, but the desire quickly died. This man . . . had once been his greatest enemy. He should have still been. But . . . what for? He’d been Soul Society’s enemy, not his, they’d dragged him into their war, and Aizen had been his enemy only for their sake. He must be crazy . . . but perhaps he’d lost his mind a long time ago, either way, it didn’t make much of a difference. “Care about me . . . really?”

-

_“It's a damn cold night. Trying to figure out this life. Won't you take me by the hand? Take me somewhere new.”_

-

“Kurosaki-kun, let me help you. You’re obviously soaked through, and I can tell that you’re freezing.” 

Again, that pleading, supplicating tone, the voice of someone who wanted something from him, and in this case, it was an allowance of assistance. Aizen wanted to help him? Help him how? How in the world could he help him? Rationally, he knew there were plenty of things Aizen could do to help him, but could he really help his state of mind, after all the damage it’d taken? 

“You really want to help me . . . ?” he was having a hard time believing anything the man was saying. It was enticing, so very tempting, but realistically, he’d realized that most of the world wanted him dead. Why didn’t Aizen?

-

_“I don't know who you are. But I . . . I'm with you. I'm with you.”_

-

“Of course I do. I would have come earlier, but . . . certain things kept me from coming to you. Soul Society has done you a great wrong. They have hurt you . . . in ways they never should have attempted.” The brown-haired man said, almost reverently, but with obvious threads of anger in his tone. 

Ichigo wanted to know why Aizen had even bothered coming here in the first place. Why he cared so much. He knew, deep inside, he’d known for quite a while. Ever since he’d seen the gleam in the man’s eyes when they’d been together, exchanging trite conversation and meaningless pleasantries. But now . . . none of it seemed real. He had denied that the lord of Las Noches was in love with him, and pushed it as far away from his mind as he possibly could, and he had known that his denial had affected Aizen internally. Had he been searching for him because he wanted him to apologize for the heartache he surely must have caused, or was he really here to rescue him?

-

_“Take me by the hand. Take me somewhere new.”_

-

Aizen’s hands were curled up into loose fists, a sign of his agitation. 

Ichigo remembered the feel of those hands, large, warm, firm, but soft. Strong. Able to protect what he wanted to protect. Unlike him. He hadn’t been able to protect anyone. He could blame Aizen if he wanted, but that was what it boiled down to, that he’d failed. That was his fault and his fault alone. For all his power and skill, he was a weak fool who had thought that he could defy a centuries old group of killers called the Seireitei, led by the very definitions of corruption, greed, selfishness, and paranoia known as the Central 46, on his own, without facing dire consequences. He’d been stupid to think such a thing, and his friends and family had paid the price for that stupidity. 

-

_“I don't know who you are. But I . . . I'm with you. I'm with you.”_

-

“There is no need for you to stay here, in this world that only seeks to destroy you before you can reach your full potential. They don’t know you, Kurosaki-kun. They never did, they don’t know what you’re capable of. They don’t know you like I do.” 

Nice, comforting words. Words he hadn’t heard in a long time. Too long. He didn’t know if he could trust them anymore. Then again . . . had he ever known? Maybe, maybe not. What did Aizen know about him? Again, it was something he didn’t know. He couldn’t say what the overlord knew about him. 

“You could be so much more than them. You could prove to them that their last mistake was taking that which you care about. Please, Kurosaki-kun . . . let me help you.”

Those eyes again, those powerful dark eyes, full of love, darkness, and this time, pleading. He was obviously disturbed by Ichigo’s current state, and his concern touched something inside of Ichigo, something that had died when he had realized Rukia wasn’t coming; his desire to not be alone.

-

_“Take me by the hand. Take me somewhere new.”_

-

“Come,” Aizen murmured, reaching out towards Ichigo with one hand, “Let us go where no one can harm you again. A world where you can fully bloom and spread your wings, somewhere you’ve never been before. Come with me.” 

There it was; that offer again. That offer that sounded like a promise of love, protection, and warmth. A chance to get revenge that he hadn’t bothered thinking about until now, because it seemed like such an impossible reality. But was it really?

-

_“I don't know who you are. But I . . . I'm with you. I'm with you.”_

-

It didn’t matter if it was or wasn’t, he decided. Like he’d thought before, anything was better than standing here, waiting for his own execution. It didn’t matter if it was a lie. Besides . . . he was willing to give loving Aizen, letting Aizen love him back a try. It couldn’t get any worse than it already was. “Okay . . . .” he whispered in reply, reaching out to take the offered hand. It was warm. Alive. Full of life in a way that he’d almost forgotten entirely. “Take me there.” 

Aizen smiled, a gesture of genuine warmth, and curled his fingers around Ichigo’s, drawing the orangette closer to him to whisper three little words into his ear.

_“I'm with you . . .”_


End file.
